


Rings, Roads, and . . . Requited Love?

by whynotcallitvanda (AthenaMay24)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: But will I have the motivation?, F/M, I have ideas for a whole series, I literally wrote this on an airplane after having been awake for almost 20 hours, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Rating May Change, Tags May Change, Takes place before Infinity War so there shouldn't be any spoilers, Which means on no particular schedule, Will add chapters as I write them, but figured I'd post it anyway, scarlet vision - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-20 09:57:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15531768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AthenaMay24/pseuds/whynotcallitvanda
Summary: "Wanda was moving on reflex again, not considering anything, not the cars barreling down the road she had to cross to get to him, not her fugitive status, or the fact that the man looked decidedly unlike Vision. It didn’t matter.Until it did."or: Vision and Wanda find each other despite everything





	1. Rings, Roads, and Reunions

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I'm not new to shipping Scarlet Vision, but I am new to the fandom. Please come find me on tumblr (same name) if you ever want to talk about them! 
> 
> This is going to take place between Civil War and Infinity War, and basically detail the time Wanda and Vision spent together. Hope you enjoy!

Wanda sat at the small, round table in the darkened corner of the brasserie, fingers wrapped around a mug of steaming tea. She enjoyed the steady clink of her rings against the ceramic. It's funny how she never tired of that noise, how even through everything, something so insignificant could make just a little bit happier. No one had ever asked her what sound best described her, the essence of _Wanda_ , but if anyone had, she’d have said the continual tinkle of her hands around a mug of tea. 

Why did no one ask that question? It was a good one. Made you think.

Wanda stretched out her fingers, examining the rings on her left hand. It was really a miracle that she'd managed to hang onto them. Lucky they'd found where their personal effects were stored on the Raft—

Lucky.

Wanda blew out a breath and curled her hand up again, shifting on the unsteady wicker chair. She'd lingered here too long. She shouldn't even be in this city. It was far too crowded, too well patrolled, despite the tourists, and of course she knew zero French beyond the few phrases Vision had taught her late one night, before—

Before.

Wanda was on her feet before the thought fully crystallized, dropping a few euros on the table and weaving her way back to the street, ducking her head and shoving her hands in the pockets of her long sweater.

Paris had been fun, but it was time to go. . . after just one more stop.

~o0o~

Paris. City of lights. City of love. The last place Vision wanted to be. 

Or the exact place he did. 

It was complicated. 

Everything was complicated. 

Vision sighed, wandering through the cobblestone streets, looking over his shoulder despite his mostly-perfected human disguise. Since the split of the team, since Vision's world had fallen apart, he'd practically begged Mr. Stark to keep him busy, anything to stay out of the shell of the compound. 

Since then, he'd been travelling the world, doing whatever Mr. Stark required. Running errands, basically, and—

And keeping an eye out, hoping against hope that he'd catch a glimpse of scarlet, feel the brush of a familiar mind against his. 

But Paris was too much. 

 

~o0o~

 

“Also in that exhibition was Monet’s _Boulevard des Capucines_ , which he painted in 1873,” Vision continued his mini-lecture, templing his fingers together, unable to stop himself from leaning forward towards her.

Wanda was sprawled on the couch across the coffee table from him, lying on her back, hair spilling over the cushions and down off the side. She stared up at the ceiling, but Vision didn't need to see her face to visualize that little quirk of her lips that meant she was both amused and confused by him. “Remind me how we got on the topic of the Impressionists?”

Vision considered. He knew the answer of course, that a conversation about a movie devolved into one about mental illness, and then about tortured artists, and then about art in general. But he'd learned that sometimes Wanda didn't want an actual answer to these kinds of inquiries, especially when they were accompanied by that smirk.

He must have taken too long to formulate a response, however, because Wanda chuckled and pulled herself upright, swinging her legs onto the floor and leaning forward to mimic his own position. 

She yawned and endeavored to continue the conversation even though it was clear she was sleepy. “So, where is Cappuccino Boulevard?”

“Le Boulevard des Capucines," Vision corrected gently, “is in Paris, France.”

Wanda brightened immediately, perking up enough for Vision to infer that she had good memories of the city.

“Have you been to Paris, Wanda?”

She deflated, the sparkle that had briefly shone in her eyes dimming. “No,” she admitted lowly, studying her fingers.

Vision's breath hitched. There was an odd pressure in his chest, and it had something to do with the sorrow on Wanda's beautiful face. She was always beautiful, even now, but Vision rarely allowed himself to dwell on it. 

As he processed his own strange emotional response—one that under any other circumstances he might have gotten Wanda to interpret for him—the room had fallen silent. He knew he should say something, distract her or ask if she wanted to talk about what was bothering her, but she saved him, again, from having to decide by offering up the information herself.

“It's a cliché, you know. For a little girl to love Paris.” She still wasn't looking at him, but he wasn't sure he'd be able to handle the weight of her gaze in his current emotionally-jumbled state. “At some point nearly every girl wants to go, be swept off her feet, something romantic.” Wanda shrugged off her words like they didn't matter, but the shake in her breath would have betrayed the truth even if Vision hadn't known her better than anyone. Anyone living, at least.

“I always wanted to go,” she continued. “Read all about it. I was a bit of a hopeless romantic, I guess.” She finally met his eyes. “But we didn't have the money before—and then after my parents—Well, there was no way it would have happened. It was the first thing Pietro and I were going to do after we got revenge on Stark.” Her lips twitched again, this time into a wry smirk. “Pietro always thought the romance was silly—it’s just a city, after all—but it represented something more, you know? Finally getting to have dreams again.”

She shook her head, taking a breath and blinking rapidly. “Sorry, Vizh. Didn't mean to—”

“No need to apologize,” Vision interrupted, wincing internally at his rudeness, but Wanda just smiled. “Perhaps—” Vision started, but broke off, suddenly unsure.

“Yes?” Wanda prompted, reaching across the coffee table to brush his hand with her fingertips. 

“Perhaps we could visit together someday?” Vision offered, meeting her eyes. “If you want. Of course, I understand if that would be too painful or—”

“I'd like that, Vizh.” Wanda nodded, smiling encouragingly. “Really, I would.”

They shared a grateful silence, taking a moment to simply be, a small part of each of them wishing that nothing would ever change. 

 

~o0o~

Vision forced himself from the memory, glancing up at the blue street sign on the building above his head. _Boulevard des Capucines_. That night he’d taught her some simple French phrases, but the subject of a trip to Paris never came up again. In all likelihood, she never expected to accompany him here, and was only being polite, considering his feelings even after such a painful admission on her part.

But Paris was irrevocably linked to Wanda in his mind, and being here irritated the edges of that hole he’d felt growing in his chest since she’d forced him through the floor of the compound. It was like he could feel her here on the streets, which was of course ridiculous, but he couldn’t seem to stop the nagging presence.

He shook himself, probably harder than necessary, and continued walking. He needed to finish his errand and get out of the city.

Vision barely made it a block before his sense of _Wanda_ was so strong that he couldn’t continue. He spun wildly, no longer in control of his actions. The Mindstone was burning. Something was happening. He knew she couldn’t be _here_ , knew better than to hope, and yet the pain burning behind his eyes made it too hard to reason. He reached for her blindly. His vision was blurring and ears were ringing. He was tricking himself, he knew it, and yet—

_Vision?_

Vision stumbled against a small tree, succumbing to the urge to close his eyes and clutch his forehead. It took everything in his power to maintain his disguise, took everything in him to keep from dropping all pretenses and rushing mindlessly towards wherever she was.

“Wanda?” he breathed her name, forcing his eyes open once more.

~o0o~

Wanda knew she should leave. Knew that just because she’d taken a train through Paris on her way to Scotland didn’t mean she had to stop and visit—but, of course, it did.

Natasha would be furious.

Wanda didn’t care. Like her rings, this wasn’t something she’d give up. You could take her name, her hair color, the ability to ever completely relax, but you couldn’t take _her_. She wouldn’t let it happen.

She needed to see it, to see Paris after all these years, and she needed to see that road, too, the one from Vision’s painting. Even if she still wasn’t sure how to pronounce it and had no earthly clue what the painting looked like. Even if she thought she’d be going with her best friend, instead of completely and utterly alone.

It didn’t matter.

She had to see it.

At first glance, it was just a big street. A pretty, big street. Well shaded. Very Paris looking. Wanda would’ve been underwhelmed, if she’d let herself. But this was Paris, and she was actually _here_ where she’d dreamed about for so long, and nothing was going to keep her from enjoying the moment. A smile came to her lips, the first in a while. People moved around her, but Wanda didn’t care, standing still even if it made her more conspicuous, drinking it in.

Paris.

If only—

_Pietro._

_Vision._

The names came to her mind one right after the other, surprising her with their intensity. The ache for each was vastly different, but equally strong.

She hadn’t thought that she could ever get as close to anyone as she’d been to Pietro—and she hadn’t, not yet—but she could see herself that close to Vision, in time, if only—

Wanda usually never let herself think of Vision, but she did now, because why the hell not? She was in Paris without him, and she missed him, and it was silly not to let herself feel, just this once.

Her mind cast out for him, an automatic reflex that came from the image of his face, the sound of his voice, of the surprised laughs that only she was able to conjure form his beautiful crimson lips.

Wanda sighed, about to turn away, when her powers caught on something, snagged on a mind and grabbed hold. She turned, powers pulling her eyes to a tall blond man a ways up the street.

It couldn’t be, and yet—

_Vision?_

The man—Vision, it had to be, her powers had never been _this_ wrong—stumbled, supporting himself on a tree.

Wanda was moving on reflex again, not considering anything, not the cars barreling down the road she had to cross to get to him, not her fugitive status, or the fact that the man looked decidedly unlike Vision. It didn’t matter.

Until it did.

She stopped a foot from him, the nagging voice in the back of her head, the one that sounded a lot like Natasha, reminding her of all the reasons this was a bad idea. She rocked back on her heels, breathing heavy. He was close enough to touch, but still hadn’t noticed her. She could—

No. She wouldn’t run. That had been pain she’d felt from his mind, and she wouldn’t leave him.

He opened his eyes.

“Vizh,” Wanda whispered. His eyes—so blue, unlike anything she’d ever seen. Her Vision.

His irises whirled for a second, that part of his appearance apparently unchanged, and then he cleared his throat. “Uh. Well. I guess we made it to Paris after all.”

Wanda laughed, and fell forward to wrap her arms around his neck.


	2. Cafés, Conversations, and Candor

Wanda let him go almost as soon as she embraced him, leaning back and studying his so foreign and yet so familiar face. “Are you all right? I felt—were you hurt?”

Vision took a minute to reply. He appeared to be assessing, taking stock of his systems. “I believe I am fine now.”

“What happened?” Wanda slowly backed up, wrapping her arms around herself. She wasn’t going to leave, she was too damn happy to see him, but she was regaining an awareness of their surroundings.

Vision noticed her sideways glances. “Why don’t we find somewhere more private to talk?”

Wanda nodded, grateful. Vision seemed inclined to let her take the lead, so she grabbed his hand, doing her best to ignore how _right_ it felt to twine their fingers together, and pulled him towards a small café on the corner. She knew they should leave the boulevard, go to a smaller, less crowded street, but she’d found him _here_ , right where they’d talked about, and she wasn’t quite ready to leave. He didn’t protest, either.

When they were seated—inside as always, away from the street and the light and the life—Wanda repeated her question. “What happened?”

Vision shifted in his chair, not uncomfortable, but perplexed. “I—I don’t really know. One minute I was fine, and then . . .” He trailed off, accompanying the words with one of his sweeping hand gestures, the familiarity of it making her chest tighten.

“The stone?” she asked, automatically glancing over her shoulder. In their rush to sit, she’d ended up with her back to the room, and the lack of sightlines pricked uncomfortably at her neck.

“Yes.” Vision nodded. His eyes held concern, but she didn’t acknowledge it. “It was an odd feeling. I guess the word would be vertigo. And something else, almost like . . .” he stopped again, losing himself in trying to remember.

“Like what, Vizh?” Wanda prompted. Usually she had much more patience for his pauses, but there was nothing usual about these circumstances.

“Like a warning,” he said finally, dragging his gaze to hers. “Like it’s trying to protect itself from something.”

Wanda let out a bitter laugh. Suddenly it all made perfect sense. “Of course, it is. It was warning you about me.” She started to stand. “I should go. This is dangerous. We shouldn’t—”

“Wait!” Vision sounded as close to panicked as she’d ever heard him, and that in itself made her hesitate. “Please, Wanda,” he said quietly, reaching out to clutch her hand. “Don’t go yet.”

Wanda let a breath out of her nose, and then nodded slowly. “Alright.” She sat back down.

~o0o~

Vision kept a hold of her hand for a few seconds longer than necessary. He knew better than to be doing this, knew that duty and logic required him to turn her in, bring Secretary Ross swooping down on her, but of course he would never do that. The days of blindly following logic and trusting authority were behind him. They vanished the minute he’d seen the security feed from the Raft.

Wanda wasn’t looking at him. She was studying her fingers instead, hands resting half-curled on the tabletop. Vision loved her hands. They were so graceful, the way they moved—it was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen. Suddenly he regretted that he’d never told her that. 

“You shouldn’t want me here,” Wanda said quietly, eyes still low. “Not after—The stone was right to warn you about me.”

“I’m not scared of you,” Vision leaned forward, reaching for her hands again, needing her to understand how intensely _unafraid_ he was. “I told you before, I will never fear you, Wanda.”

“But the stone?” She finally brought her eyes up to his, gaze defiant. “Clearly—”

“We don’t know that,” Vision interrupted, surprised at the burst of anger in his chest. “Feel.” He did grab her hand now, pulling it up to hover in front of his forehead. He didn’t care that they were in public, didn’t care that he could be overstepping his bounds. She _had_ to know. “Please,” he added softly. “Please, feel.”

Wanda bit her lip, wavering, hand still poised in front of his head. She was blinking back tears, but he couldn’t think about that because if he did he’d pull her into his arms like he used to on those nights in the compound when he’d help her through her nightmares and hold her chastely until the sunrise, but he wasn’t sure there was anything chaste about the feelings that had surfaced since her absence, so he forced himself to focus on the feel of her fingers instead. Anything else would be going much too far.

She took a deep breath, and—as she exhaled—let a single spark of red flit across the distance between her hand and his forehead, closing her eyes.

“See,” he said after a minute, gently releasing her hand. “I’m not afraid.”

Wanda met his gaze. Her lips were slightly parted, and the red-rimming around her eyes from the unshed tears only made them a deeper green. She was tragic, and she was beautiful.

He was quite possibly deeply in love with her.

~o0o~

The waitress came and went, bringing them each a cup of coffee. Wanda used the interruption to steady herself. She’d seen things in his mind that she was sure he hadn’t intended, and she needed a minute to bury those thoughts as deeply as possible. They weren’t relevant right now. She sipped her drink, and Vision didn’t speak.

Finally, Wanda couldn’t stand the guilt burning in her chest any longer. “Did it hurt?”

She didn’t need to be any more specific. As always, Vision knew exactly what she meant.

He hesitated before answering, as if he was deciding if he should lie to spare her feelings. “Not physically.”

“Vizh, I’m _so_ sorry.” Wanda shook her head, staring down at her coffee cup. She knew what she’d see if she looked up, knew his sweet blue eyes would be filled with compassion and forgiveness and she knew she didn’t deserve it, even if he thought she did. “I—what I did was so shitty—I _knew_ you couldn’t completely control the stone, I _knew_ it made you nervous, and I used it against you anyway. I _never_ should’ve—”

“As I never should have allowed you to be incarcerated in the manner that you were,” Vision interrupted.

Wanda flinched. “I didn’t know you knew about that.”

They fell silent.

“Wanda?” Vision prompted after a minute, waiting until she reluctantly looked at him. She was right about that damn look in his eyes, and of course it crumbled her resolve just like always. Vision was the only person capable of convincing her she was worthy of love and compassion, and he could do it with just one gaze. “We both made mistakes.” He waited until she nodded. “I’d like to move past them?”

Wanda knew it was a question, knew everything hinged on her answer, but she also knew she didn’t deserve any of it. But that thing she’d seen in his mind—selfishly, she needed the chance to explore it further.

Wanda nodded, exhaling. “Me too.”

~o0o~

Vision wanted to see her again. She’d finished her coffee, and then drunk his, a familiar routine from before, and he knew she was antsy to get going. Her current situation demanded a certain restlessness, and it reminded Vision of the way that Pietro could never stay still. Wanda had developed some of that same edgy energy, but he wasn’t sure she’d appreciate him pointing out the comparison.

He wanted to see her again. So he told her. He didn’t think about it, didn’t give himself time to doubt, simply let the words fall from his lips. “I want to see you again.”

Wanda looked back at him, tears long gone now, cocking her head to the side and squinting a little. She was trying to figure him out. He just stared back at her, careful to keep his expression blank.

“Are you staying in Paris?” she asked evenly, with no real indication of her feelings on the matter.

“Only for the few hours required to complete Mr. Stark’s business.”

Wanda looked away at the mention of Stark, shifting in her chair. “You work for him now?”

“What else is there to do?” Vision replied simply.

Her eyes narrowed.

“The compound is empty,” he continued. “Running errands for Mr. Stark is the only way I can get out in the world.”

“No, it’s not,” Wanda argued immediately. “You can do whatever you want. You have this new disguise now, so you can _go_ wherever you want—”

“No,” Vision cut her off gently, shaking his head. “I can’t. I must abide by the Accords.”

Wanda leaned back in her chair, still with that same studying look. “Including alerting them to my presence?”

Vision’s eyes widened. Surely, she knew that he wouldn’t—

“I don’t want to fight you again, Vizh.” Wanda’s hands curled into fists, and she had an achingly familiar look of warning in her eyes. “If you want to keep seeing me, I have to know that—”

“I would _never_ —” Vision broke off, choked up by the intensity in his own voice. He took a minute to find the right words, and Wanda let him, crossing her arms over her chest. “Wanda, I have never seen anything as horrific as what was done to you in the Raft. If I’d known in time, please believe that I never would’ve let it happen. I can’t go back and undo my mistakes, but I can promise you,” he leaned forward, holding her eyes, hoping with everything in him that she’d believe him, “that no harm will come to you ever again, if it’s at all within my power to stop it. And you can check my mind if—”

“I believe you,” Wanda nodded. “I trust you, Vizh. I don’t know why, but—” she shrugged. “I do. And at this point, I’ve learned to follow my gut.” She stood, shifting her weight immediately, still full of that same energy, casting calculating looks around the café. “I’m on my way to Scotland,” she said finally. “Should be there a while. If you want to see me again—”

“Where in Scotland?” It took everything in Vision not to stand, but he could tell she didn’t want him following her out. It appeared that she was leaving him with the bill for that very reason.

Wanda smirked. “You’ll figure it out.”

And then she was gone, leaving Vision staring after her with a stupid grin on his face, taking an inordinately long time to come to his senses.

He _would_ figure it out. He wouldn’t stop looking until he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure where it'll go from here, but I do plan to keep going. Please don't hesitate to let me know what you think!


End file.
